


Coffee

by iwasabutt



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff, Light Smut, M/M, Smut, Vaguely-described blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasabutt/pseuds/iwasabutt
Summary: Furihata thought that his life was pretty much over the minute he spilled coffee on his boss.(He is partially right: Akashi Seijuurou and his unfair sexiness is surely going to be the death of him.)





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Embarrassing office shit. And fluff. Also, no actual graphic depiction of sex, because the author sucks at writing smut.

Akashi Seijuurou isn’t exactly the type of person to get assaulted.

Primarily because he seldom encountered people with a death wish (and even those who did usually chose less torturous means to end their lives), but also because he could usually _see_ it coming, with his (quite questionable in terms of plausibility but no one dared to question it anyway) Emperor Eye.

So when his morning coffee routine started with an elegant sip and ended with sizzling liquid sloshing down his pants, he didn’t  know how to react except to stare at his black coffee mixing with some putrid concoction that was ninety-nine percent cream and perhaps one percent coffee (at most).

There may have been shock, but since Akashi Seijuurou does _not_ get shocked, the first thing that truly registered was an insatiable curiosity. Insatiable curiosity that was specifically aimed at a horrified, coffee-soaked man with brown hair.

His irritation dissipated upon seeing who it was.

Furihata Kouki.

Akashi’s lips twitched slightly, before regaining his grave expression. The more reckless, irresponsible side of him thought, _Oh, this is gonna be fun._

And then, because Akashi was human after all, the next sensation that registered was the _agonizing pain of burning hot coffee on his crotch,_ and Akashi narrowed his eyes—mostly to hide that he was in any way affected by the _agonizing pain of burning hot coffee on his crotch_ and to conceal any trace of misery into the utmost composure befitting an Akashi.

“Excuse me,” he said calmly.

Immediately, everybody in the office stopped what they were doing once that soft yet distinct voice infiltrated the morning bustle like the clean-cut entry of a knife into a vital organ.

Everyone watched in dead silence.

The caffeine-infused creature shot up to his feet. He proceeded to bow repeatedly, babbling strings of incoherent sounds that may have been apologies. At one point, his head landed directly on Akashi’s collarbone and he stumbled backwards (presumably in some awkward manner of mortification, although Akashi was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was having a seizure), nearly crashing into a nearby photocopy machine.

The vice president of the company (at the meager age of twenty-five) closed his eyes and forced himself not to howl in agony, like some primitive beast. Or rip off his infernally hot pants and underwear in front of his employees. Or murder the sniveling Chihuahua in his path (after ravishing him soundly, perhaps). All of these options sounded very agreeable, but would probably cause his father to either disown him or have him assassinated, right on the spot.

So instead he exhaled, set his cup down on some random surface, and appraised the trembling man pleasantly.

And the employees of the Akashi Corp. began to fervently wish for a speedy escape route.

“Come with me,” he said to Furihata without much preamble, before the panicking employee could bolt with _his_ own accursed cup of joe.

He turned to the staff, bestowing upon them a smile so lovely, so sweet, with undertones of unspoken threats, and watched as they all scrambled back to work, pretending, of course, that they did not just witness such a shameful display involving their boss.

Akashi then forced himself to walk as if his dick wasn’t currently shriveling up and dying.

“Y-Yes, sir!” the other man squeaked out belatedly, and off the two went, leaving employees praying for the brown-haired boy’s salvation in their wake.

Furihata couldn’t help but fidget as the rows of employees they passed all shot him pitying looks. Somehow, it felt like he was being carried in a casket in a funeral procession.

Also, he was absolutely drenched with the stuff he was drinking. He secretly swore to never touch another cup of coffee for the rest of his life.

Akashi nodded at his secretary, before pushing the doors open. The heavy wooden entrance opened easily, and Akashi led him to what appeared to be an entire apartment, but was in fact his office.

A practical wooden desk stood before a large window, bearing nothing but a stack of papers and a framed picture of a smiling red-haired woman. The floors were covered with fuzzy carpet. Music played softly from a corner in the room. Everything was sleek and elegant.

Sort of like the beautiful man that stood beside him.

Furihata felt like an uncivilized oaf by comparison.

Also, Akashi’s left eye had turned gold, and he wondered what the heck _that_ meant.

Akashi perched delicately on the couch in his office, instead of the hardwood chair behind his desk, because he was a gentleman who accommodated his guests (and not because it hurt like hell to sit considering his current condition).

“What is your name?” he asked smoothly, feigning ignorance. He couldn’t help but grin inwardly at the slightly disappointed look the other man immediately obtained.

“F-F-Furihata,” he stuttered.

Akashi extended an arm on the couch, directly behind the shivering man, and watched in satisfaction as his prey gulped. “Furihata what?”

“Um.” The man blinked his extraordinarily large eyes, trying to see past his soaking bangs. “Kouki.”

“Kouki,” the _other_ Akashi repeated. He raised a hand, and Furihata flinched, likely expecting to be grabbed and flung across the room. Instead, Akashi’s eye reverted to red, and he brushed the bangs away from his face. “Are you hurt? I see you were not spared from the damage.” A ghost of a smirk played at his lips.

The other man wiped the coffee from his face with his sleeve, which conveniently hid his flushed cheeks. “I-I should be a-asking you that…s-sir. I’m sorry!”

Akashi reached for his handkerchief and wordlessly handed it to his employee. Furihata whimpered a quiet _thank you,_ and the two lapsed into silence.

“You,” Akashi began, “caused me a lot of trouble. Not only did you disrupt my routine—you also provided a great potential for injury.” He eyed the terrified Furihata Kouki. “For both myself and for you as well. It is fortunate that you were not hurt,” he concluded. _Unlike me,_ he added silently in his head, shifting slightly as the fabric dried uncomfortably against his skin.

Furihata ducked his head. “S-Sorry.”

“You apologized quite enough.” His grin turned wolfish. “I implore you now to make amends.”

Furihata sat up, like he had waited all his life for this moment to save his ass from impending unemployment. “I could pay for the dry-cleaning.” Furihata nodded meekly at Akashi’s legs. “Or I could buy you new…pants.” He stared doubtfully at the impeccably tailored, expensive-looking (albeit stained) slacks and shrank back.

“I do not think that is necessary. Nor is it sufficient, to be honest, to serve as a remedy for what you have done.” With each word, Furihata sank further and further into the couch. Akashi chuckled lightly, before leveling his gaze at the anxious man.

“Well, what do you think, Furihata Kouki-san?” he said, donning that pleasantly predatory smile again. “Any suggestions? In this company, we pride ourselves in our ability to listen to our employees.”

“Um...”

“No, I suppose you can’t offer me anything.” His gaze roamed Furihata’s body, inch by inch, causing a full-body tremor to sweep through the already shivering brunet. One of his piercing red eyes seemed to glint gold for a second, before settling back into that warm ruby color. Furihata swallowed.

The truth was that he had a crush on his boss for ages. Earlier that day, he was so entranced with the way the morning light filtering through the windows grazed his bright red hair and highlighted his handsome features.

…And the next thing he knew, he had splashed them both with coffee.

Furihata inched back as his boss moved closer, until he could feel his warm breath against his face. Without warning, his eyelids drooped, staring at his beautiful boss with a drowsiness that probably resulted in this drug-induced fantasy, because no way in _hell_ was this actually happening in real life.

“Your eyelashes are unusually long,” he observed. “Are you aware of that?”

“I-I guess?”

The intense gaze turned hooded. “And that your lips are supple and soft?”

 _How would he even know that,_ Furihata wondered, distracted. His pants were becoming uncomfortably tight. He squirmed on his seat.

“Ah, but I guess I wouldn’t know that just by looking, hmm?”

Before he could accuse his boss of being a mind-reader, soft, insistent lips were suddenly against his.

He couldn’t help the moan that slipped out, nor could he control the pliant arms that wound around Akashi’s neck. Akashi took the opportunity to slip his own tongue in, licking into Furihata’s mouth with fervor, before withdrawing, planting a chaste kiss on the lips as he did so.

The two sat in silence for a moment. Then Akashi languidly stretched out his legs. “My slacks plague me. Take them off,” he commanded. He had apparently decided to take the reins in light of Furihata’s prolonged hesitation period.

 Furihata didn’t move. And then, with a deep breath, he complied and knelt, directly in front of his boss.

Trembling fingers unclasped the belt, fumbling with the zipper and button for a bit, before peeling the fabric slowly, down to his ankles. Taking a deep breath, his hands steadied slightly as he put all his attention on what he was doing.

Akashi restrained a relieved sigh as cool air hit his heated skin. He watched intently as Furihata removed an Italian leather shoe with deliberate slowness that almost spoke of veneration, as he was so focused on his task. Once the shoes were placed neatly aside, he finally, took Akashi’s pants off entirely.

Furihata looked up—only to be faced with the slight evidence of Akashi’s arousal.

He swallowed thickly and lowered his eyes. “Will that be all that you require of me, sir?” he asked very formally, not stammering for once.

“Why don’t you feel for yourself?” his boss challenged.

Shutting his eyes, Furihata blindly reached out and grasped Akashi’s thigh. Slowly, he inched towards the desired spot, and palmed the clothed bulge, feeling it harden further at his touch.

“I-I guess I got some coffee there, too,” he murmured, allowing his hands to explore the soiled fabric. He gave an experimental squeeze and was rewarded with a soft groan.

Akashi hummed. “I suppose you did. Tell me, what do you intend to do about it?”

“Uh, y-you want me to…ah…?”

“Yes?” his boss purred from above him, and he shivered.

“I could…maybe…um…”

“Furihata.”

Apparently deciding that he had acquired far too big a share of embarrassment for the day (and it was hardly even 9 AM yet), he yanked down the boxers and shoved his face down Akashi’s crotch.

Akashi didn’t react, much to Furihata’s dismay. “Why, your technique certainly lacks subtlety,” came the bored voice from above him, “not to mention moisture, suction, and all of the factors that comprise what I believe you are trying to accomplish.”

Furihata looked up, less embarrassed and more frustrated, and quite a bit aghast, too, like he can’t believe he was just about to suck his boss off. “It’s just, uh, can we go somewhere more private?”

Akashi grasped the strands of his new lover’s hair and pulled, smiling at the gasp he received. An eye flashed gold. “In the middle of a workday? You astound me, _Kouki_. I don’t believe that a model employee such as yourself would commit two major blunders in one day.”

Furihata shivered as long, slender fingers caressed his hair, massaging his scalp. “Someone might walk in,” he whimpered.

Akashi sighed, before smiling kindly at the man beneath him. “If you are not comfortable,” he said carefully, “then I give you the liberty to leave, Furihata-san.”

“B-But my job…”

He trailed off. And there was a long, uncomfortable pause.

Abruptly, Akashi recoiled. “You surely didn’t expect me to proposition you at the expense of your job?”

The other man hid his face again.

“I would have thought”—Akashi’s voice sounded strangled, and so he cleared his throat—“I would have thought that you had more respect for me than that, Furihata.”

The one below him shook his head empathically. “I do,” he said quietly. But he did not elaborate.

The truth was, he was so… _starved_ for this guy, that any excuse to sleep with him honestly seemed too good to pass up. And yes, his libido rivaled that of a thirteen-year-old boy’s, and he was infuriated with his own sexual immaturity, but just the mere _sight_ of the man was enough to cause faces to flush boners to pop up.

But Akashi clearly thought that his own employee perceived him to be some power-hungry pervert. The redhead shook his head, sadly. “Furihata,” he chided, until the other man timidly raised his eyes. “I would have you know that I’ve been interested in you for quite some time. You’re hardworking and compassionate, and you’re one of the kindest people I have ever met.” He smiled softly at the wide eyes looking up at him.

“Y-You didn’t even know my name,” Furihata grumbled, turning his scarlet face away.

Akashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He motioned for the other to join him on the couch and Furihata reluctantly sat next to his boss. “Furihata, we’ve known each other since high school. You were Seirin’s point guard, correct?”

If it was possible, Furihata’s face burned brighter. “You r-remember that?”

“Of course. You guarded me in the Winter Cup final. Also, you watched as my other self nearly stabbed Kagami-kun with scissors,” he said dryly.

“That _was_ scary,” Furihata muttered. He glanced up briefly. “And you talked to me during Kuroko’s birthday.”

Akashi smiled. “That I did. Furihata, I have been noticing you. You have been an excellent employee. You always turn in your reports in time and help your other colleagues with their work. And you are usually very efficient. Other than the incident earlier, that is.” His lips tugged into a smirk, and Furihata blushed.

“It was because of you, you know,” he complained.

“Ah, yes. One thing I appreciate about you is that you appear to work excellently _only_ when you are not aware that I am watching. Otherwise, you are quite horribly-coordinated. Quite a contrast to the usual habit of an employee to do their best only when they are being supervised.”

Furihata jabbed him childishly, much to Akashi’s delight. “That’s your fault, too! You’re too distracting!”

“Oh? Do I distract you, Kouki?” The gold eye reappeared, and Furihata squeaked, practically flying behind one of the couch’s cushions.

Both the gold eye and the smile flickered, and Akashi heaved a sigh. “Believe me, I would not put your progression in this company in jeopardy for something base as my sexual desires. You are far too valuable an employee for that to ever transpire. Forgive me. If my feelings are not returned, then I would not force—”

“No!” the other man exclaimed, and all of a sudden, Akashi Seijuurou—both sides of him—was in _shock._

Because a hot, wet mouth eagerly devoured him whole and it was all he could do not to thrust erratically into that inviting heat.

“ _Kouki_ ,” he gasped.

Furihata slowly, wetly released him from between those rosy lips. He was pretty sure that his face matched Akashi’s hair, but he squeezed his eyes shut and began to worship him, with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue.

Sucking in a deep breath, he relaxed his throat and sank down, thoroughly sheathing him with that hot, wet mouth…

His throat spasmed and he gasped for air. Timidly, he looked up, panting all the while.

“Am I to assume…?” Akashi gazed at Furihata intently, eyes glimmering with hope. He, too, was panting and desperate for release, but he had to know…

Furihata nodded, determination and lust setting his eyes ablaze. “Yes, Akashi. And y-yes, Seijuurou,” he finished lamely, hoping Akashi—both of _him—_ understood his meaning.

Immediately, Akashi’s eye turned gold. “Why, Kouki,” he purred. “I never imagined you to be so bold.”

He raised his chin defiantly. “It’s only fair, if _you’re_ on first name basis with _me_.”

Again, the man before him shifted. “Furihata,” the purely red-eyed Akashi whispered urgently, “are you absolutely certain?”

He nodded earnestly. “I, uh, I’ve also had a thing for you. Y-You know, since high school.”

“Since high school?” Akashi echoed, astonished.

“Y-Yeah, I mean, you’re kind of really awesome and hot,” he blurted out.  “I-In that final game, I mean. Uh, yeah, I think that was the first time I realized that I also liked guys. Or m-maybe not guys generally, I don’t know, maybe just _you_. And also in our third year of high school.”

“Third year?” he questioned, feeling quite a bit like a parrot. (A very frightening parrot.)

Furihata flushed. “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t remember. But you gave me an umbrella, when it was raining that one time. You know, because I don’t listen to my mom every time she tells me that it’s gonna rain. And then you, um, ran off without one. And there were other moments, too. Like that incident with the bushes in the park? And the train?”

He sighed when the redhead continued to look confused. “You were just really kind, okay! That’s—well, I guess, you’re also one of the reasons, you know, that I chose to work here? Oh, but that’s, um, that’s not the only reason! I also really admire your company and—”

His incessant yammering was cut off with a searing kiss.

Furihata groaned as Akashi nibbled on his ear, and traced a fiery path down his neck, his large hands touching and _touching_ everywhere. He mewled as his lips were once again claimed, and then it was a gentle exchange of kisses, breaths coming out in short puffs between their parted lips.

“I never realized,” Akashi said, voice low, once it was over, “that you feel that strongly about me.” He actually sounded touched. Furihata smiled, a little thing at first, before it blew into a wide grin.

“I like you, Akashi Seijuurou,” he said bashfully.

“I like you, Furihata Kouki,” came the equally fond reply.

Furihata’s smile froze when Akashi’s golden eye gleamed. “And I must have you.”

“Wh-What? Now?! B-But someone might wa— _ahh!_ ”

Akashi’s smile, on the other hand, didn’t fade even as the brunet lay writhing in pleasure on his desk, even when the loving moans and groans and sighs pushed him deeper and deeper into ecstasy, even when his poor, unsuspecting secretary walked in for a second and immediately rushed the hell out of there and presumably into the next continent.

After all, he was smitten.

And Furihata Kouki, after tasting that vague flavor on his lover’s mouth, decided that maybe coffee deserved another shot, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I obsessed with this pairing they hardly even interacted in the show ARGHH


End file.
